


extraction

by orphan_account



Category: Starfighter (Comic)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Athletes, Freeform, M/M, Underage Drinking, Unrequited
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-10
Updated: 2013-12-10
Packaged: 2018-01-04 07:13:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1078090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's the way Cain drinks that catches Abel's eye.</p>
            </blockquote>





	extraction

When Cain drinks he tips his head back and downs the contents of the the shot glass in his hand with an easy, practiced grace that Abel envies somewhere in the back of his mind. 

Cain always brings his hand down, lowering it as if in anticipation of the long line of his neck will make, before throwing back the bitter spirit with hardly a flinch. 

Abel isn't seeing straight, but he can see the delicate touch of Cain's fingertips to clear plastic cup side and he can feel the heat rush to his face at the thought of those fingers on his skin. That is enough to remind him where he is, sprawled across some stranger's couch getting hot and bothered by the sight of Cain. 

His hair is falling into his eyes, not nearly as stiff as it is during the day and Abel is doing a dumb a thing, stupid as fuck, when he reaches out spontaneously and runs his hand through Cain's hair like the other boy is a wild animal that should be treated with caution. It's a touch that barely ghosts across the blue streaks in Cain's hair, texture hardly registering through Abel's finger tips, but Cain must have felt the movement in the air near him because he is turning his startling blue eyes onto Abel. 

Abel freezes up. 

It's like being caught in headlights. Cain's eyes are so bright, so full of secrets that Abel could never possibly (would never want to) dig up. He thinks that maybe someday he would want to get closer to Cain, up close and personal to broad shoulders covered up by the black fabric of a plain t-shirt, to fine finger tips, to the sweet sweep of his nose, and the angry slash of his red, red mouth. It's dark, but Cain's gaze holds him still, and Abel is paralyzed by their uncommon light. 

In the next moment, Cain has drawn closer, closer than Abel thought he ever would, and his eyes are even more blue at this distance, his pupils black holes drawing Abel in until they are sharing air and Abel can taste the heat radiating off of Cain's skin. 

Abel reaches up slowly, uncertainly, and touches the side of Cain's neck. His pulse is racing, his skin is slightly sticky, with sweat and possibly a spilled drink or two, but Abel leans closer despite his better judgment because maybe--just maybe--he wants just a taste of Cain before they are never this close again, returned to just two crew members on the same lake in the misty mornings by the morning light.

When Cain kisses him, it's hardly more than a dry press of lips against skin at first. His lips are cracked, and they don't reach Abel's lips quite right, but as the kiss deepen his mouth is hot and somehow Abel's hands are on Cain's back tracing a path down the sticky length of his spine between his winged shoulder blades, finger tips dragging against taunt black fabric. There's hardly any space between them and the buttons of Abel's flannel shirt are pressed almost painfully into his own skin as he presses closer to Cain, but the molecules between them still pose an excruciating distance.

**Author's Note:**

> So drabble. Much unseasonal.


End file.
